A Friend of mine
by LilyBartAndTheOthers
Summary: She is just a friend of mine, isn't she?


It is just a oneshot to speak about her lips; the way they move with sensuality as soon as she opens her mouth or breathe. She has delicate features that flirt with perfection and the paleness of her skin is pure and soft like the finest marble you could ever find in this world. She may wear diamonds but her charms are such that the precious stones always end up greening with envy when, in a subtle motion, she dares to smile. She seems so light, then; so fine. I love when her head leans backwards and she lets a laugh escape from the depths of her soul, just for a couple of seconds; for my whole life. Sometimes I abandon myself to the fantasy of my mind and wish I could brush her lips again. I kissed her once, she didn't protest. There must be something to save in this vain memory; a vague glimmer of hope perhaps. But time is passing by and she doesn't come back to my arms.

It is just a oneshot to speak about her heart. Like the heaviest secrets we would like to forget, she put a veil over it a very long time ago to prevent her tears from falling on her face. But if you pay attention, there is a light somewhere behind her eyes; a sort of flame that dances through the wind and makes you understand about her fragility, as soft as it is. I don't know why people don't manage to see it. They mustn't look at her as I do, with honesty and strength. They are all so wrong, so far from whom she really is. I guess their selfishness tends to get the truth a bit fuzzy and their gazes can't read the language of her heart. She is not sad or happy; just halfway between her dreams and her existence. Is she looking for something better? I don't think so. She loves way too much her insecurities; they push her to behave the way she does and feel strong, alive.

It is just a oneshot to speak about the first time we met. I rushed into Grace's office and didn't see her at all. But when I turned around and faced her polite smile, I swore to myself that I would never forget her, no matter what could happen next. Perhaps I wouldn't come to see her again; perhaps the rest of my life would be dedicated to her. Though she had to stay in my mind and slowly, very slowly, made her way until my heart where she now reigns in a respectful silence; she is everything to me. We became closer while the years faded away; taking with themselves the confusion of my senses and the doubts of my soul. We lived a lot together and I am a part of her as she is a part of me, now. I trust her instinct; she relies on my advices, my company. One day she burst into tears and allowed me to ease her pain. I hate when she is suffering but the warmth of her body against me went straight to my head, dizzily. I closed my eyes and let her scent steal my soul.

It is just a oneshot to speak about her ankles, her legs, her hips; her whole body. Her high heels give a rhythm to her steps, a seductive figure to the person she is. There is a notion of elegance mixed with the logic of nature. She doesn't have to work to reach such a result of perfection; an indescribable aura that makes me shiver whenever she appears in front of me. It goes above a mere contact, a furtive touch. Her essence invaded my veins and feeds now my heart of constant waves of pleasure and warmth. I came to this point when I forget about all the rest and only think about the moment I will cross her path; bumping into the craziness of my feelings and the beauty of her soul, the uniqueness of her eyes. This is not an old dream, a prohibited fantasy. I let the seconds fly away but it remains the same; the softness of a danger that attracts me into its nets unless I already failed, if only.

It is just a oneshot to speak about a night. When the bottles began to sparkle in the dark and we both succumbed to the dreadful unknown of our breaths, hot and moist, against our shivering skins. It was probably a mistake, the irreverence of alcohol taking possession of our minds when the rustle of the sheets got lost into our intertwined bodies and she smiled at me, all of a sudden. Her fingers on my hair she captured my lips and murmured softly that I was her only dream. The morning light gave a bitter shade to the exhilaration of our words, shining like a wedding ring on her left finger; the weight of our lives and the impossibility of some things, as important as they could sound. I don't regret anything but the silences of our gazes when we came to an end before even starting; when her hand slid off of mine and she left the room, avoiding my eyes.

It is just a oneshot to speak about Karen. She is a friend of mine, just a friend. Isn't she?

Will.


End file.
